


Smooth Talkin', So Rockin'

by millijayne13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bon Jovi Songs, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fleetwood Mac References, Fluff, Singing in the mirror, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millijayne13/pseuds/millijayne13
Summary: Some good old fluff with George Weasley.
Relationships: George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Smooth Talkin', So Rockin'

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr @iliveiloveiwrite
> 
> Warnings: none - fluff

Kicking off your shoes, you wander further into the dormitory. You shuck off your outer robes, discarding them on an empty bed before shaking your hair out of its ponytail and rubbing your scalp with your nails. You sigh happily at the feel of your loose hair; ponytails were all well and good until three quarters through the day when the headache starts to set in, and your attention begins to drift.

The exam season had started three weeks ago; NEWTs tied in with further career aptitude tests. It’s been three weeks of stress tied in with little breaks. Honestly, if you even felt another piece of parchment, it would be too soon in your opinion.

The first taste of fresh air after finishing your final exam this morning had been nothing but sweet. The relief burst through your veins and made its way onto your face in the form of a large smile.

The smile hadn’t left your face – not as you sprinted from the exam hall, not as you uttered the password to George’s common room, and not as you spy something sitting on the windowsill.

The record player sits on the windowsill in his room; a slight sheen of dust settled over it – it had been some weeks since you had sat and listened to some music. The exam period had soon fallen upon you both; becoming so busy that taking the time to simply listen to some music had you panicking about your grades and how they would be affected should you stop revising for even a minute.

George had tried his best to reassure you; he had even offered to play music whilst you were studying in his room, but you declined the kind offer. You needed silence in order to focus; any music would distract you and your anxiety would fly through the roof.

Studying the record player now, you don’t miss the fact that George could have had every opportunity to play music and relax, but at the sight of the dust and the fact that it remains undisturbed tells you that he only really prefers listening to music when you’re around.

You bite your lip at the thought; warmth surging through you as you think of George choosing to wait for you both to be done with exams so you could listen and enjoy music completely stress free.

Pulling off your tie and throwing it on his bed, you drag out his collection of records. Thumbing through, you can’t help but marvel a little at the span of artists and dates George has hidden away under his bed. He owns genres of all kinds from fifties doo-wop to eighties hair metal to nineties grunge. He has it all; under his bed and ready to play and fit whatever mood he should find himself in.

You tap your finger on your cheek as you make your selections; taking care to place them on his bed before sliding the rest of his collection back under his bed.

Remaining on your knees, you shuffle to his trunk. Out of all his clothing, his Quidditch jersey had to be your favourite. Pulling it out his trunk, you hold it up to your face, inhaling the scent that is so uniquely him – broom oil, honeysuckle and mown grass. You remember smelling it for the first time; getting a whiff of it through your potions lesson as you brewed it with your friend. Your friend, Margot, had teased you relentlessly for your realisation that day – the Hufflepuff crushing on the Gryffindor, but it had paid off.

George approached you later that week; confessing to you what he had smelled in the cauldron before asking you out.

Smiling at the memory, you shrug off you school blouse and replace it with George’s jersey, rather liking the way his name is splayed across your back for all to see. You remove your skirt; digging around for a pair of leggings you had left in his trunk after getting caught short on too many occasions. The Hufflepuff common room was such a long walk away from the Gryffindor one; too many times you had had to make that walk minus a random piece of clothing as you had forgotten it or lost it in the heat of the moment.

Thoughts of your past exams are brushed away as you fold your clothes; placing them on top of George’s trunk. Instead, you focus on the music you want to listen to. Honing in on your mood and selecting the appropriate record to play. Truthfully, you could have happily listened to them all. Your mood much brighter now that your exams were over, and you could finally spend more time with George instead of being holed up in the Hufflepuff common room revising.

You hold the record delicately in your hands as you blow away the dust that has settled atop the record player. Happy that it’s clean enough, you slowly remove the vinyl from its sleeve; having chosen a personal favourite band of yours whose album about their break up remains one of the most played to this day.

You mime out the drums before moving onto guitar. Your head moves with the beat and your hips soon join it, rolling as you turn up the volume and reach for your hairbrush.

Swivelling to face the mirror, you use your hairbrush as a microphone as you begin to sing along to the lyrics. You smile stupidly as you let yourself fall into the song and enjoy the music; having not listened to anything of substance in so long.

The muggle band continues to play; their songs becoming better and better the further into the famous album you get. You jump up and down a little as your favourite song from the album starts to play; your smile becoming wider and your singing becoming more purposeful as you try to match the vocals.

_“You, you make loving fun. It’s all I want to do.”_

Clapping sounds from behind you as the song fades. You turn quickly; coming face to face with your boyfriend. He leans against the doorframe; a large smile on his face and his eyes bright with happiness as he sees you relaxed after a long exam period.

“George!” You shout; somewhat mortified at being caught. You hold a hand to your chest to check your heart is still beating. Satisfied that it is, you glare playfully at the redhead, “How long have you been stood there?”

George laughs; pushing himself off the doorframe, “From the second chorus to the end.”

You groan, reaching for his pillow and chucking it at him. He catches it with a laugh and your glare becomes fixed on your face. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” You ask, flipping through the records, trying your best to act nonchalant.

George snorts, “And miss the show? I think not.”

You roll your eyes, “Well did you at least enjoy it?”

“Love,” He starts, “You’re dancing around my room, singing along to music I love as well as wearing a shirt that has my name across the back. I’d say I enjoyed it very much.”

You bite your lip as your face flushes. You shrug your shoulders shyly, “I had my final exam today and I wanted to have some fun.”

He hums with a smile, “I think you’ve more than earned it, darling.”

George wraps you in his arms; finally holding you after a long day of exams. He had barely seen you through this exam period; you would join him for meals before quickly kissing his cheek and rushing off to the library or your common room to study more. More often than not, he found himself asking for entry into the Hufflepuff common room so he could check that you hadn’t fallen asleep on your books. George tended to find you curled up on the couch before the fire with your textbook still gripped in your hand; still open on the last page you were reading before your eyes slid shut and you fell asleep.

He sighs as he finally feels you against him; he presses kiss after kiss to the top of your head. You hum happily; tilting your face up to his to finally kiss him after what feels like an eternity.

Through the kiss, all the tension leaves both of your bodies. The lingering stress of exams leaving you both as you finally come together.

Breaking the kiss, George smiles down at you. He’s happy to see the stress leave your body; to see you return to the carefree person you were before the anxieties settled upon your shoulders, making you feel as if you had the weight of the world upon them.

George presses one last kiss to your lips; thrilled with the way you chase him for more before reaching for another vinyl on his bed and replacing the one no longer spinning on the turntable.

The needle lands on the vinyl as George turns to you with a large smile. Guitars sound through his room and he starts to bang his head with them; his long hair flying everywhere. You snort with laughter at the sight of him.

Suddenly, he stops. He stops banging his head and he stops miming the guitar. Instead, he holds his hands out for you to take; wanting nothing more than to pull you in an embrace especially when you stand there – hair a mess from dancing and wearing his clothes.

Your hands take his and he pulls you to him again; spinning you in a circle as the opening bars to a Bon Jovi love ballad begins to sound throughout the room. Humming along to the tune, you let George take lead with singing along to this particular song. His voice sounding like honey on a warm summers day.

_“I’ll be there, till the stars don’t shine. ‘Til the heavens burst, and the words don’t rhyme,”_ He sings loudly with a large smile on his face; his eyes on yours as he warbles his promise.

The words he sings land on your skin; sinking into them and making you glow with his promises for the future. At eighteen years of age, you’re supposed to have your lives planned out – know the career you want to do, know how many kids you want to have and what pets you want, but they never ask you whether you expect to stay with the teenager you’ve loved since you were seventeen and making Amortentia for the first time.

However, at eighteen years of age, both you and George are well aware that you’ve found the person you want to spend the rest of your life. That you’re done and what happens now is that you live out your plans together – till the stars don’t shine and the words don’t rhyme.

The atmosphere in the room shifts slightly. It’s only small, but the shift is palpable – both of you aware, but both of you happy to ignore as George drops yours hands and picks up your discarded hairbrush. Loudly and full of laughter, he performs into the brush. The song finishes and he draws you in for one more kiss.

It’s always one more kiss; at breakfast, before class, before bed. It would always be one more kiss because one more kiss would never be enough. He would never have his fill of you.

He is happy to have his always with you, George thinks to himself as the next song begins and you both share a secret smile before beginning to belt out the lyrics at the top of your voices.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Feedback is so important so please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed!!


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